


Let It Fall

by j_espere



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Post-Canon, Post-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:59:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6063007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_espere/pseuds/j_espere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of moments between the Dread Wolf and his Heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love in the Dark I

“I can’t believe Sera cleared me out. AGAIN.” Ava complained to Solas as he guided her out of the tavern. It was nearing two hours past midnight and most of the occupants of the castle were asleep, save those at the tavern. Solas had been wandering back to his desk in the rotunda after dinner when she grabbed him, insisting he join them for a game before everyone turned in for the night. It was began calmly enough, with the knowledge that the Inquisitor was taking a team to the Emerald Graves the next day. That only lasted until the drinking starting. Without Solas to keep her upright, the Inquisitor would be drunkenly stumbling towards her quarters. Or passing out on the tavern floor.

"You'd think you'd learn the first time." Solas' hand hovered over her lower back, guiding her out of the tavern. It was barely a brush against her back. Two days ago he had come to her quarters and told her “he had not forgotten the kiss.” They hadn’t really spoken since. She has been initially overwhelmed by his confession of love. In Elvish. Did that make it more or less serious? Ava’s head ran around in circles, questioning herself, and so she stayed away.

"What can I say? I love wine and gambling."

"I can see that."

"I don't think you had enough to drink tonight Solas." Ava noticed a slight slur in her voice, but she was too sloshed to care. Antivan wine went straight to her head. The small sober voice in her head told her she would regret embarrassing herself in front of Solas in the morning.

"I think you had enough for both of us."

Ava turned her head towards Solas who was a step behind her leading her up the stairs to the main hall, in order to give him a feigned scandalized look when she tripped. Her foot caught on a step and she stumbled forward, and tried to catch herself with her hands. They skidded across the step and she could feel the flesh scrap against the stone but couldn't quite feel the pain yet.

"Lethallan!" Solas knelt down beside her as she picked her hands off step, inspecting the bloody scratches that marred them.

"Ow." Ava was beginning to feel the sting. She held her hands close to her face, the cloudy night sky giving her skin a grey cast. Her hands were covered in dirt and blood, and a few bits of gravel were stuck to them. It was a comforting pain, a pain that told her she was grounded, mortal. It was different from the pain whenever she opened or closed a rift. That pain; sharp, stabbing, increasing until finally the release, it was everything she was terrified of, concentrated in one painful reminder.

A heavy sigh came from Solas who helped her stand before taking ahold of her waist tightly to guide her up the rest of the stairs.

"It's not easy being the Inquisitor in the dark." She joked. "The stairs don't recognize me in the dark. They'd never dare trip me if they knew who I was." She could feel Solas' side pressed against hers as he took her in the main doors, lighting a fire that had particularly interesting ideas flit through her head.

There were a few candles left burning in the great hall, but it was completely unoccupied. In a moment of drunken confidence Ava turned towards Solas who was beginning to take her into the hall proper and brushes her lips against his neck. Solas froze and Ava turned away smirking but Solas caught her chin in his hand and hovered over her mouth for a moment before pulling her towards him for a kiss. This close to him she could smell his musk and the arm around her waist tightened to keep her upright. Ava reached up, hands burning but she hardly noticed the pain, and threw her arms around Solas' neck, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue inside her mouth. She had made fun of him for "fade tongue" but the real one was so much better. She moaned into his mouth as he ran his hands up her sides, skirting over the sides of her breasts and then back to her hips, grazing the bottom of the simple shift she wore over her leggings.Solas broke off the kiss for a moment to maneuver them a few steps to the left in order to pin her to the large door frame with his entire body. The look he gave her made her heart pound in her stomach, his eyes, focused and intense, took in her face before kissing her again, open mouthed and frantic. His hands slid under her tunic and began to wander upwards, his hands on her waist and then brushing against the underside of her breasts. She arched into him, wanting more contacting, wanting for him to touch-

"Maker's Tits Chuckles!" Varric's voice tore them apart. He was standing about five feet from them. Between the two of their "superior" elf senses neither of them had noticed the approaching dwarf. "Could you at least find a dark corner?"

Solas scowled at Varric and Ava had to bite her tongue to stop herself from laughing. Of all the people to interrupt it would be the one who was going to be writing her tale in a few months time.

"Okay! Leaving now. Go make some glorious elf babies." Varric strood past them, purposely slowly. Solas stood a few feet away but her body ached the loss of his heat against her.

"We should find somewhere-" she whispered.

"More private." Solas concluded and reached to take her hand in his for a moment until she yanked it away. Her hands were now constantly burning and she presented her scraped up hands and slightly glimmering mark underneath it. Solas' lips pressed together as he gently inspected them, lightly brushing over the gashes with his fingertip. Familiar healing magic passed over around and through her hand, alleviating the stinging.

"Well I could have done that." Solas, surprised, threw back his head and laughed before Ava quickly hushed him. "Shh! You'll wake the whole castle, and then they'll be a full celebration because Solas actually laughed!" They started to head across the great hall, towards the private quarters, Ava's stomach swooping at the thought.

"I laugh. Quite often."

"You chuckle. Sometimes."

"Now I understand Varric's nickname."

Reaching the door Solas pulled it open and stepped aside to let her through.

"Thank you kind sir." Ava was full of liquor and lust, which was manifesting in her comedic responses, as she bowed deeply, too deeply, towards him before stepping through.

Solas stepped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, sweeping the hair away from her neck and kissing her neck.

"At this rate we'll never make it up these stairs."

She could feel Solas smile against her neck. Before righting himself.

"Maybe we should focus on that. Don't want you to trip again. And we should bandage those up with a salve if you are going to be riding tomorrow."

Oh yes. Riding tomorrow. Ava pushed it out of her mind, trying not to think of the future hangover tomorrow would bring.

"Plus my bed is much more comfortable than a stone wall." He had moved back to her side and a glance to her right showed the tips of his ears reddening in the candle light.


	2. Silence

They met in the Fade one last time, soon after Solas took the mark from the Inquisitor. They stood in a clearing in a forest, reminiscence of the Hinterlands. Ava paced back and forth across the neutral meeting ground. In the last few years when she would dream, she would find herself wandering these woods, catching glimpses of a wolf passing through the trees.

Ava was about to give up when he appeared across the clearing. The ancient armour and wolf pelt he wore made it hard to see him for anything than the truth, an elven god in flesh. It made her feel so incredibly stupid for not realizing it earlier.

"I didn't think you'd come…” Ava made no move to close the distance between them.

"Inquisitor..." Solas took a step forward, clasping his hands behind his back in the most insufferable way possible. Over the aching pain in her chest, Ava’s rage broiled.

"I'm not the Inquisitor anymore you made quite sure of that."

Solas narrowed his eyes at her.

"That was not my intent."

"Just call me by my name...please. Solas-" 

"Ava."

"Let me help."

He sighed. Ava thought maybe, if she could get to Solas, maybe she could stop him. Use his feelings towards her to convince him to change his mind.

"You don't know what you ask.” That was probably the most truthful thing Solas had ever said to her. She had no idea what Solas needed to bring down the Veil and she didn’t know what was going to happen when it fell.

"I'm asking to stay with you. To love you. For whatever time we have left.” Ava pleaded. As much as she could try to chalk this up to manipulation, she had felt a gaping hole in her heart for the last two years. Solas was the only person she had come across in her life that she had fallen in love with. He had supported her through the hardest decisions she had ever had to make in her life. Ava ached for Solas with every fibre of her being.

"How are you feeling?" Solas attempted to change the subject, to what Ava guess was his original intent of coming.

"Like I'm missing a part of me."

"I'm sorry about your arm.” Solas moved towards her slowly.

"It's not the arm I miss it's you."

"You are being childish.” Solas snapped.

"Is that all I ever was to you some child for you to pass the time with and take advantage of? Don't answer that it's hard enough to be alone thinking you cared. It would be harder knowing you don't." Solas’ face softened. He moved towards her, not quite touching, but close enough that Ava could see into his deep blue grey eyes and the little dip of a scar on his forehead.

"Ma vhenan...I never thought I would find anyone like you. You will recover." He reached towards her face and traced the line on the cheekbone where her vallaslin used to be.

"Before you rip Thedas apart you mean." Solas removed his hand.

"Ma vhenan-"

"Call me that one more time and you'll wish you never stepped one foot near me in the dungeon in Haven.” Her anger came out of embarrassment, a defence mechanism she had always had, to spew the cruelest words she could think of instead of breaking down in tears.

"Ava. I have to do this." Solas sounded exasperated. Ava needed to keep him here and keep him listening, so he might give in to her.

"Did it even occur to you that maybe I understand that? Actually I changed my mind. Either let me live or let me love you. Tell me it was a trick, that you used me, that my gullibility disgusts you. I will hunt you to the ends of Thedas and then I will give you to Josephine who will rip you in pieces to hand to every ruler in Thedas. And we will both die alone." It was a low blow. Using that against him. Solas’ face harden and became near unreadable.

"Or?"

"Tell me where you are. Or where to meet you. I come alone and with nothing. We face the future together"

Solas gave her nothing but silence. It enveloped the entirety of their surroundings. _He’s never going to answer_ , Ava thought.

"No I suppose that was too much to ask wasn't it."

Solas turned to leave, their impasse reached and nothing more to say.

"Just answer me one question Solas. What happens when the veil comes down, do we all die?" Ava’s voice broke as she called after him, the tears attempting to push through. Solas turned back with a slight smile on his lips.

"You are possibly one of the few who may survive a tangle with the ancient elven gods." Ava doubted that very much, as adjusting to casting precise spells with one arm, while not impossible, was highly difficult. She tired much faster and her enemies were much harder to face.

"So that's what you are going to do then. Let them lose and see what happens."

"Not with so much indifference as you imply, but I will deal with them after the veil is removed, yes."

“Dread Wolf-“ Ava started without realizing before her swear fell to silence.

“I have no doubt we will see each other again before the end.” Solas continued walking away from Ava, leaving her alone in the woods.


	3. Thriteen Times He Healed Her

1\. She lay unconscious, shackled to the floor of the dungeon. The mark flickered and grew. He tried to take it back but he was too weak. Her face twitched with pain in her sleep, the mark of Mythal dancing across her skin. A large cut had been made across her eyebrow, eye, and down her cheek, and her lip had spilt. He did as much as he could, leaving the faintest scars possible, sowing together the skin with careful magic. As he left to try to close the breach one last time he wondered why he even bothered when she would die anyway. 

 

2\. She lay unconscious, but now a hero, healer at her side monitoring her failing heart rate. She has surprised him, even just by waking up. She had closed rifts, cut down demons with magic of her own with no help from his orb, and stopped the breach from growing. But the last one may of been her end. She was only eighteen, while her magic stronger than he expected, it could not be enough. The healer sighs, says she will not make it through the night, and Solas tells him to retire, he will watch the girl. Her heart beat weakens, he tries to take the mark one last time, but by sealing the breach it's been sealed to her. So he collects all the lyrium he has and casts the strongest healing spells he can remember, not quite as powerful as he once was but something this healer hasn't tried at least. Because if she dies, Coreyphus will destroy his chance to get the mark back. 

 

3\. He thinks she has a death wish. He finds her staring at the sky for hours in Haven, but in the Hinterlands she can't stay still. She slides down a rock face because it's the fastest way down, her arm skinned and bleeding from the experience. She swears about the Dread Wolf and he blanches, thinking of a cover, but she's just realized she doesn't have any salves on her. He heals her arm as Cassandra lectures her about risky behaviour. She thanks him profusely and three hours later she runs into a burning building. 

 

4\. He wants to know about the time magic, curious on how it felt. Now that he knows you can go forward like this he wants to fashion it to go back. She answers his questions poorly, stammering. He's frustrated and she apologizes. "In that future you died for my failure, I will never let that happen again." For a second he can see past the Herald of Andraste, that asinine title, and see her. She's tall for the elves he sees these days, her blond hair in an elaborate braided style, flickering green in the light of the breach. The colour of her vallasin matches her eyes, a dark green. Her indomitable focus in battle seems both unlikely and perfectly understandable. She was unlike any elf he had encountered in the last year. He feels himself slipping as the conversation turns, and he could nearly kick himself when he says he'd like to see her focus be dominated. Not that he wouldn't but that would complicates things. She laughs, the worry of a few moments ago gone, able to be healed through a few words. 

 

5\. She's a mess in every way; her mark flickers in distress as Cullen carries her into camp. She's likely concussed, with several broken ribs, her left ankle is swollen, her left clavicle is jutting upwards, suggesting a snapped ligament. An entire mountain and a self made God bring down their wrath on her and she walks away. As much as she tries to die, she is very bad at it. She sleeps for three days, but when she wakes she can at least use her arm, a major improvement on his magic. He uses the time to practice how much he will tell her about the orb. 

 

6\. After the kiss in the fade they skirt around each other. He is somewhat disappointed but it would be better if she forgot. Whatever shared dreaming of a kiss would be better than anything real, and he would treasure it for the rest of his days, that perfection. In the western approach they spend too many hours in the sun and sand and her skin becomes patchy and red, the jealousy Solas had for her breezy qunari armour evaporated when he watched her peel away the ropes to ugly burns. She can't ask Blackwall or Varric to help, so he sits in her tent, rubbing a salve into her bare back and arms as she moans in pain. She lies face down and fights back tears as he tries to be as gentle as possible. He tells her stories of the thing he's seen in the fade, they way he found out the last few thousands of years he had missed. Nightfalls and he gets up to go to his tent. "You don't have to go" she says. And he lies down next to her, listening to her breathing.

 

7\. He tells her he loves her and he means it. He is stealing time from her, dragging this along, but it is the first time he becomes conflicted about tearing down the veil. Destroy this world? Certainly. Destroy her rare and wonderful soul? He could not bear to think of it. She sits with him for hours, each on their own paper work, in complete silence. She sits on the edge of his desk waiting until he acknowledges her before loudly suggesting that he needs a break. She makes him laugh by imitating her advisors debating a Skyhold nug farm. It's why when he watches her run into the fray of a battle with a hakkonite champion his heart drops. She enters the fray, spectral sword in hand, but she's a fraction of a second too slow to jump back from the champions long sword, which tears upward through the one body part not heavily armoured, her torso. He yells something, and sprints to her side, Cassandra distracting and finishing the champion. She's still standing, some how, but she looks ghostly and her high ever weave tunic was quickly staining with blood. She says something about a scratch as she takes a step forward, but collapses into his arms before she finishes the thought. His heart is pounding as Cassandra and Varric yell to him, quickly attempting to stop the bleeding, but he can't tell how deep it went. "The camp is not too far from here, just keep it closed until we get back." He scoops her up in his arms and races her bleed out. When they get to camp he has no want of supplies nor lyrium as everything has stopped to tend the inquisitor. She recovers quicker than he expects, but she's always blasting his expectations apart. "Did we win?" She asks when she comes to, sitting up in bed with a health potion between her hands. He kisses her and begins to tell her off before she reminds him that the pain in her stomach is lesson enough. 

 

8\. At the winter palace she picks a rose up from the display next to them and pricks her finger. A tiny dot of red bubbles to the surface of her index finger that she presents him. A quick healing spell and a kiss on the wound make her laugh. 

 

9\. He can see her confliction. She thinks it is her right, the well of sorrows, but it will only destroy her. He considers pulling her aside and telling her the truth of the well, but that would not stay secret for long. When she asks what he thinks he keeps it quick. If someone must take it let it be this quickling Mage. She offers it to him and he nearly bursts out laughing, to return to a binding to mythal. She wants to take it, she wants to be closer to her people, but she cannot, in good conscious put herself at risk. Morrigan might have Kieran but she had all of Thedas. She watches the witch walk into the pool in jealousy. That will soon change, he thought. Indeed later, she comes to him shell shocked, Mythal, alive. Her world and beliefs are shaken to the core. She spends the night in his small bedroom, and he finally makes his last mistake, lying with her. She falls asleep on his chest after telling him she loves him. He decides to tell her the truth. 

 

10\. The truth comes, but he twists it, makes it solely about her vallislin. "Take the vallislin away." She says, slightly trembling at the thought. He hopes he is strong enough to cast the spell, but he leaves no sign of a mark on her face and he is proud. She looks so beautiful in the moonlight, with no mark to remind him of the elves fall. The fall he caused. They kiss and it is if the perfection of the fade kisses finally have become real. He can see an easy future where they make love on the grass. He would lay out his tunic and lay her down to protect her glorious body. But her face reminds him of his mistake, separating the waking from the dreaming. He had to remove the veil, and doing so would destroy the world she worked to protect. She looks confused as he puts on a cold and formal expression, apologizing for distracting her. She tries to get him to explain and he stammers through whatever excuse comes into his head. 

She is young, she will heal in time. He leaves. 

 

11\. He watches her from a distance in the fade. He doesn't dare get close enough but his stalking keeps the demons at bay. They skirt around the edge of her dreams, drawn to the mark like a beacon, her and the flagging mark. It would kill her soon, he thought, mind brought back to wander the memories of each other, holding her in his arms. He finds out from an agent that her and Cullen find solace in each other for a time, his lyrium addiction eating away at his life. He think unflattering things about Cullen, but in the end hopes for her happiness. 

 

12\. She finds him in the crossroads and he knows he must explain everything this time, it is the least he owes her. Her mark flares and grows, and he knows she can feel her blood beginning to boil in her veins, the magic consuming her the way he would have had it consume the veil. He can stop it for a time but her arm would be unsaveable. She asks to help, her love of him and sadness for her people overcoming her duties as inquistior. He will not put that strain on her. She asks him to change his mind. The mark strains against his magic, and she yells, desperate that their love will endure, in her broken elvish. He kisses her one last time as he removes and dissolves the mark, no more use to anyone. Doing the last thing he can for her. 

 

13\. She finds him in the end, his people give a respectable fight, but she's effectively figured out how to cast chain lighting with one hand. Not in time to stop him, but in time to stand by him as the veil falls. Chaos will reign in moments while mortals and spirits figure out what happen. They stand in the window of an ancient fortress, and a trickle of blood runs from her nose. Her magic is strong and he knows she will make it, clasping an arm around her waist to keep her upright as his remaining people looked on in confusion. When it finally falls everything is different and yet the same, it would take centuries for it to return to how he remembers it but it is perfect. Her missing arm flickers in and out of existence, memories of it being there following her around. He takes it in his hand, draws it through and returns it to her. She looks at him as tears pour from her eyes, but he doesn't think she notices. They embrace as the world around them began to crackle a burn. The realization had come. 


End file.
